Late at the Office
by Belenkof
Summary: AU CRACK ONESHOT. Leon/Wesker ficlet, because there's a disturbing lack of Leon/Wesker goodness on this site.


A/N: SMUT, for the few fellow shippers of Leon/Wesker. Total crack, somewhat AU, written cause there's almost NO stories containing this pairing. Which is saddening to me and the few others who like this content.

MOAR A/N, The Leon portrayed in this story is of my own design, and the backstory is being written into a fancomic I've got going. QUESTIONS? ASK ME. 8D Now, story time.

It was very late, almost three in the morning. An early hour, to Wesker, however. He was currently going over the latest documents Birkin had completed before resigning for the night a few hours earlier.

Wesker huffed a sigh, taking a red pen and underlining a few errors in the report, the content not fully matching the outcomes of the actual experiments. He'd have to have a talk with William when he came in next shift. Apparently, the scientist's mind was too focused on his daughter's entering junior high school. It was unusual for Birkin to make errors.

With a frustrated sigh, Wesker threw the pen across the empty room, his mind, for once, not on work. He leaned back in his chair, hands over his eyes. The trademark sunglasses laying on his desk. No need to wear them if he was alone.

A rapid knock on the door jarred Wesker from his thoughts. His head jerked up and he called, "What?" He didn't bother hiding the annoyance in his voice. The heavy door clicked open, the sound echoing in the room. Leon Kennedy, still donned in his Umbrella officer uniform, stepped into the room.

"Sir, we're retiring for the night," He said, his voice smooth. He acted as a true soldier, not the cop-turned-agent he'd been before Wesker had caught hold of him. Wesker's pride swelled every time Leon did something satisfactory, making him glad he'd made the young ex-cop his right hand. Umbrella's finest, indeed.

Wesker beckoned to him. "Thank you for reporting in." Leon entered the room fully, closing the door behind him. He'd rarely been inside Wesker's personal office, save for the brisk reports and alerts of anything unusual. "You've been working hard all this time, haven't you? I haven't seen you slack off even once since I hired you." Leon looked as if he didn't know how to respond. Should he agree, or assure Wesker that he was just doing his job? Wesker continued, a small smirk on his face. "For all your hard work, you deserve a reward. None of the rest of your group are as successful as you."

Leon was Wesker's best experiment with the virus. Leon had been, as a human, the best with any type of firearms, performed above satisfactory hand-to-hand combat, and displayed a cool calmness in times of panic. And now that he'd been turned by the virus, he became the perfect Bio Organic Weapon, even better than Valentine. Leon was Wesker's "pride and joy". Even Birkin's creations couldn't compare.

"Thank you, sir," Leon said after Wesker had spoken. He remained stoic as his superior stood and stalked over to him. Wesker's golden-red eyes met Leon's Black and red. Even now, Wesker was still impressed about how Leon looked dangerous, but still so..."human". He retained all memories and skills, functioned better than he had in life, and had new, or hightened abilities. All that was almost expected, but his appearance was a shock. Blue eyes burned red, the sclera blackened. His skin had paled, the veins almost visible, and his hair had darkened. And, there was his teeth. The canines and inscisors had elongated, and sharpened. Oh, how sharp they had gotten. During the tests, Wesker had found that Leon could easily tear through metal, shivers running up his spine as he thought of what kind of damage they'd do to human flesh.

"Sir?" Leon asked. Wesker had reached out and stroked Leon's jawline, amazed at how smooth the officer's skin had remained. Icy cold to the touch, but smooth.

"Silence," Wesker ordered, grasping Leon by the chin and drawing him closer. Goodness, Leon's lips were like ice, but the kiss felt like searing flames. Leon, the perfect soldier, just stood there, letting his superior ravage his mouth, his only reaction was closing his eyes and opening his mouth to allow Wesker to slip in his tongue, careful not to cut himself on those teeth.

Wesker pulled away, frowning slightly. "Come now, Kennedy. Here I am, rewarding you for all your hard work, and you can't even be bothered to even act grateful." Wesker's voice took on a scolding tone. Surely his perfect creation could be perfect all around. "Don't dissappoint me, now," he glowered.

It seemed that was all the urging Leon needed. Eager to please his superior, Leon grasped the sides of Wesker's face, pulling him in for a breath stealing kiss. Surprising himself, Wesker felt a delicious shiver run over his body. With a snarl, he tangled his fingers in Leon's hair, jerking his head back. The sudden movement caused Leon to scrape a tooth over Wesker's tongue. "I am your superior," Wesker hissed, oblivious to the blood that ran down his chin. "You do not take control of anything without my permission."

Leon grimaced slightly. "Sorry, sir," he said, his body rigid, braced for punishment. Wesker noticed and, still gripping Leon's hair, stole another kiss from the young officer. He was pleased to hear Leon moan softly, finally reacting the way he was supposed to. Wesker broke away, grabbed Leon's hips and hefted him up. Leon, at the sudden movement, grabbed at Wesker's shoulders, his usually expressionless face full of surprise. "S-sir!"

"Quiet," Wesker ordered, turning to his desk and laying Leon down on it, positioned nicely between his thighs. He shook his head. "Too many layers," he muttered, tugging at the buckles on Leon's flak jacket. The heavy piece of armor fell to the floor with a dull thump. With that out of the way, Wesker tugged the heavy black shirt up, then off, with some assistance from Leon. Wesker scowled slightly at the heavy amount of armor and clothes the military personnel had to wear. Elbow pads, utility belt and fingerless gloves joined the flak jacket and shirt on the floor. Now, to peel off the underarmor that hugged Leon's body so tight, laying flat against every muscle.

He slid a hand under the tight material, taking a mental note on how the many layers did nothing to raise leon's body temperature. He slid the material up, caressing Leon's tight body the whole way. "Off," he said, and Leon slid off the shirt wordlessly. Maybe working on Leon's dialogue should be the next project Wesker worked on.

The blonde mastermind climbed onto his desk, holding himself over his subordinate. He enjoyed the way Leon's tighs felt, pressed against his hips. He rolled his pelvis once, testing Leon's reaction to physical stimulant. And the results were successful. The younger officer arched his back, but slightly, letting out a delicious moan. Wesker loved the way Leon bit his lip to stifle the noises, the way he grabbed Wesker's leg and gripped it tight, the way he closed his eyes, tilted his bead back, looking very much like a virgin on prom night. Oh, Albert Wesker was going to enjoy making Leon moan like a cheap whore.

"C-captain," Leon breathed, the sensation like ecstasy. Before this, he'd only known pain, intense pain, and hunger. Pleasure was all new to him.

Despite Leon's body being so cold, Wesker felt uncomfortably warm. He shook off the lab coat he'd been wearing, then off came the shirt. The zipper of his shirt got stuck about halfway down, so, in a small burst of frustration, he ripped the top open, then off. He'd repair it later. He returned his attention to the icy cold, yet smouldering hot body beneath him. "Now, to continue with your reward," he purred, grabbing Leon's belt buckle.

The following morning, Birkin was surprised to recieve, instead of a severe scolding for his less than substantial report from Wesker, just a neatly corrected pile of papers on his desk. "Well," he told himself. "Wesker must be in good spirits today."


End file.
